


Please Don't Surrender

by melanoms



Series: Please Don't [2]
Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Artist!Reader, Bickering, F/M, Porn with Feelings, Reader-Insert, Smut, Stubborn Reader, stubborn Stephen Strange
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 23:13:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28714827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melanoms/pseuds/melanoms
Summary: As an artist, you see Stephen’s hands in a dramatically different way than he does. Maybe this difference of opinion will actually help you agree on something for once.
Relationships: Stephen Strange/Reader
Series: Please Don't [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2104965
Kudos: 39





	Please Don't Surrender

**Author's Note:**

> As you all know, I’ve been s t r u g g l i n g as of late creatively. So I know you wanted porn. But instead you got feels and I hope that’s okay. If not, oh well.
> 
> Tumblr Request: Two days ago, when Stephen was between my legs, he did this thing with his hands. I never realized that nerve damage could actually be beneficial when you…” I know that the line from Please dont teach me was just to get into tonys head but I’m over here still thinking about it. Curse my horny brain. Anyway i was wondering if you could write something with Stephen and fingering - Anon

The edge of Stephen’s mattress welcomed you as you plopped down and removed your shoes. Raising your eyebrows, you shook your head with a smirk.

“No, I will not paint you.”

You inched back on the bed and laid down as Stephen leaped on top of you.

“You’re missing out,” he hummed, decorating kisses along your neck.

“I don’t paint people I know personally. It’s a matter of policy.”

He paused.

“Does the policy have a name?”

“No.” You furrowed your brow. “Why?”

“Nevermind.”

He kissed you as you squirmed to unbutton your jeans.

“I think you’ll find I can be incredibly persuasive,” he murmured before pressing his lips to yous.

“And I think you’ll remember that I can be one stubborn motherfucker.”

“I do. My nose and I both do.”

Stephen chuckled as you removed your shirt and bra, inviting him to trail kisses from your neck to sternum to stomach.

“Consider it,” he pleaded.

You tilted your head upright and raised a brow.

“I love you. But no.”

“I’m not giving up.”

“Neither am I.”

As you leaned back, he hooked his finger through one of your belt loops and tugged, asking you to finish the job. Well, at least you agreed on one thing.

When you were naked, Stephen pressed a chaste kiss just below your navel. He continued down your body until his tongue met your clit, inspiring a whine from you.

Fuck.

You probably shouldn’t have chosen such a compromising position to begin a disagreement. Goddamn, he was a tease; indulging himself in every lick, stroke, and swirl with a pleased grumble.

As your body twitched in agonized reply, he knew exactly the words you were biting back. Quite literally. You bit your lip and arched your back, tugging on the roots of his hair and he continued to maneuver his tongue with careful diligence.

Stephen’s recent relationship with time sparked a newfound patience within him. Which he used to his advantage on numerous occasions; often to the mutual benefit of all of humanity.

Not that he was bragging…at least, not more than he deserved.

But, at this particular moment in time, Stephen was abundantly satisfied with his supernatural patience; now that it could serve him beyond his traditional duties. He would wait you out as long as you would allow. Or until his jaw gave out. Whichever came first.

Although it probably wouldn’t be you.

You held your breath and used one hand to fist the sheets, tightening the grip of the other in his hair. He flatted his tongue against you and looked up after a long, hard lick.

“Something wrong?” he mused.

You panted a gasp of air and shook your head.

“No.”

You strangled the truth in your throat. And you knew he could hear it. You just knew.

“I’ll give you what you want.” He kissed the inside of your thigh. “You just have to agree to my demands.”

“Or maybe I’ll just take care of myself.”

“If you were going to do that, you wouldn’t have come to me.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“That mouth of yours is filthy. Someone should do something about it.”

Stephen steadied a hand on your hip as he reunited his tongue with you.

His tongue. His tongue. His fucking tongue. You didn’t want his tongue. You wanted—

“Okay! I surrender,” you moaned. “Just use, I want your hands.”

He leaned upright with the thinnest veil of disappointment, smirk amply peeking through.

“Oh? Is that so? So impatient to be patient?”

“Stephen, please. My ego can only take so much.”

“Perhaps you need to explore your spirituality.”

With a grin, he laid next to you. Stephen steadied his hand between your legs with the gentlest of pressures. He rested on his side as you drew in a breath. Just as he tucked the tips of his fingers into the warmth of your wetness.

It took months for him to trust his hands with you. In his experience, they did sloppy work; at best. He was certain, as always, that they would be nothing but a painful reminder of everything he had to let go.

But with you, he had something to hold onto.

And, for once, it didn’t hurt to have a tight grip.

Leveraging his wrist, Stephen rested two fingers on your clit and painted diagonal strokes across you. You approved with a grateful moan as he quickened his pace; but not the pressure. He didn’t need pressure to bring you right to the edge.

This was the one time he caught a glimpse of how you saw the world. Stephen had long past the phase of experimentation with you; masterfully knowing the direction, pacing, and layering to treat his canvas well.

Your breath grew fast and ragged as he applied a few circles across you. But he quickly returned to lateral strokes.

While his mind knew exactly what movement extracted the most pleasure from your fevered skin, his wrist—well, more specifically, his first dorsal interosseous. Not that you cared—needed a smidge more practice for circular movements.

But it was a kind of practice he quite enjoyed. And, according to the hurried gasps, pants, and moans escaping your lips, you did too.

“Aw, fuck,” you whined.

He nodded in reply; learning quite a while ago that this was not the time for his sarcasm. Although, you’d certainly get a mouthful later.

With a deep breath, Stephen applied just enough pressure to ignite your climax. As your body twitched and pulsated under his touch, he felt an ounce more of appreciation for the pads of his fingers.

Perhaps he was too hard of them. Or…as you always said, too hard on himself.

(Not that he would ever give you the satisfaction of knowing he agreed with the sentiment.)

When your consciousness returned to earth, you swung your leg over his hip to straddle him on the mattress. Stephen raised his eyebrows in equal surprise and delight as you began untangling his—

“Goddammit. Who needs this many fucking belts?”

You kissed him from his jawline to throat, biting down to grace his neckline with your mark. But you drew in a breath and paused.

“You saw my sketches of your hands…” You tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes.

“I mean…I might have gotten a glimpse.”

“Have you been spying on me?”

He shifted his weight and grunted. But you applied pressure to his pelvis with your hips.

“No, I just…Yes.”

“I never wanted you to see because I thought you’d be too self conscious.”

“I never asked you about them because I thought you’d feel the same.”

“Aw, this is what it feels like to agree on something?”

“Apparently so.”

With a smile sparked from the heart, you placed your hands on either side of his face and leaned in to kiss him.

“I’d love for you to be my model.”

He hummed in reply as you pulled away and cocked an eyebrow.

“But after you magic off these damn robes of yours so I can show you just how fucking filthy my mouth can get.”

Resting his head back with a groan, Stephen obliged. He was starting to enjoy agreeing with you.

What an unexpected twist in your timeline.


End file.
